


Competition Nerves

by notenoughtogivebread



Series: Klaine Advent 2015 [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Episode: s02e16 Original Song, M/M, performance anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6278935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Klaine Advent 2015 prompt Competition. A look back to the start; Kurt has nerves about performing at Regionals, and his new boyfriend helps him understand why. And maybe Kurt learns some things about the charmer he's fallen for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competition Nerves

The closer they got to Regionals, the more anxious Kurt got. How could he be so afraid of the solo—ok, duet—in competition? After all, wasn’t it what he wanted? What he’d fought for in New Directions? He just wished he could _understand._

Worse, he didn’t know who to talk to about it. He didn’t want to undermine the Warblers’ confidence in him. And, well, he could talk to Blaine, but everytime they got close enough to, they ended up kissing instead. And who else could he ask? When he ran into Rachel at Breadstix Thursday night, she had actually zipped her lips and run the other way. Even his best girl Mercedes was no help. She laughed when he called to tell her about Rachel’s antics, but when he brought up his confusion about it all, she shut that right down. “You know I love you, Kurt, but this part of the conversation? It’s a little too close to fraternizing with the—well, not the enemy—but the competition.” 

And now it was Friday, and Regionals was tomorrow, and he hadn’t eaten a full meal in days, and he kind of hated everyone. Starting with his star of a boyfriend, who was showboating all over the practice stage as they did a final run-through of _Raise Your Glass._ Did they really have to practice, well, raising their glasses this many times? And did they have to do it in full uniform? 

He felt out of step with the team, out of sorts. At each pause, there was so much back-slapping and horseplay, and Jeff mimicking the way Blaine said, “My glass is empty. That sucks.” How many times could that be funny? 

When Wes finally declared himself satisfied and called out a 10-minute break, Kurt jumped off the stage, stripping off the stupid hot blazer, and busied himself with his bag, keeping his head down as he dug for his water bottle. 

“Hey.” Blaine’s voice was soft and his hand steady where it rested on Kurt’s shoulder as he bent down to meet Kurt’s eyes. “You ready for working with the team for _Candles?_ Or—we could run through it one more time, just you and me? I’m sure we could get the stage.” 

Kurt took a deep breath as he drew himself up to meet Blaine’s concerned gaze. “No, I’m good. I think I’m good. I have to be good, right?” 

Blaine’s eyes widened, and he called to Wes, “Kurt and I are going to the dance studio to stretch. Can we extend the break to 15 minutes?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just took Kurt’s hand and led him to the mirror-lined room. He closed the door, took his blazer off, and hung it on the barre, then dropped down to remove his shoes and sit cross-legged on the floor, looking up at Kurt expectantly. 

When Kurt just stood, uncertain where to begin, he spoke, ticking off each point on his fingers. “So. You’re in good voice, we know the choreography. I think we sound great together, and the Warblers are happy to have less to do, a chance to breathe between the other songs. You have nothing to worry about.” 

“Easy for you to say.” He didn’t mean to sound grumbly, he really didn’t, but well, it WAS. 

Blaine struggled to keep his face under control. “Come again?” 

He wrapped his arms around his own waist, and paced in tight, jagged circles. “You’re a natural, Blaine. You don’t _have_ to fight for solos. I see it—they just hand them to you. Rachel may get all the solos, but at least New Directions _pretends_ there’s a chance someone else will. And I get it; I’m always going to fight for the spotlight. I’m not what they want. I guess I’m just afraid that I’m not going to WOW them. That I’ll waste my chance.” 

Blaine scrunched his nose up, and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Not your only chance. You just have to—make your chances. Like you did this week.” 

Kurt snorted. “I’m not kissing guys for solos, Blaine.” 

“No. Not like that. You sang, and the council heard you. That’s what I do.” He thumped his head back into the mirror, frustrated. “Look, I’m NOT a natural, whatever that is. I think it just looks that way to you, ‘cause you’re coming in at the middle of the story. Trust me, Kurt, if I get to sing lead in the Warblers’ arrangements, it’s because of preparation.” 

Confused, Kurt dropped down next to the other boy. “I practice. I sing every day. We all prepare, rehearse, whatever you want to call it. You should HEAR Artie’s voice when we mess around in practice—and Mercedes in church. But…” 

Blaine surprised Kurt by stretching his legs out straight and folding over to bring his nose to his knees. So, okay, he hadn’t thought they were really going away to stretch, but he mirrored the other boy’s actions. Blaine sighed as the stretch took hold, then turned his head to face Kurt. “I’m not talking about practice. It’s—okay. Story time.” 

He sat up and raised his hands overhead, loosening his shoulders and moving through triceps and lats stretches, smiling as Kurt moved to copy him. “I came to Dalton as a 3rd former—in 8th grade. I was a newbie; kids like Jeff and Willis started in 6th grade, just moving over from the lower school. And I didn’t know what to expect when Wes invited me to a Warblers practice.” 

“But, see, that’s what I mean. He _invited_ you.” 

Blaine bumped Kurt with his shoulder. “No, silly. It’s just—that was his job that year. One of the underclassmen is always appointed as ambassador to the Dalton middles. This year it’s Jeff’s job. Or did you think he liked being a mother hen?” 

“You know everything Jeff does is just—“ 

“Just too much blondeness and overexcitability. I get it. Anyway, I joined and I certainly wasn’t getting solos that year. So I watched and learned. Like, I hung around the older guys and learned about what goes into arrangements for a capella. Mostly I learned the kind of music the guys liked. I saw the type of songs they sang together just for fun, and the stiffer, more formal stuff they used for performances. The performance part wasn’t much fun that year, but the guys were.” 

“But Warbler meetings ARE fun. And at least we aren’t constantly going into Mr. Schu’s grab bag of ‘80s classics.” 

“Hey. There’s some good stuff from the ‘80s!” 

Kurt just arched his brow. “So, what changed?” 

“I spent the summer before 9th grade working out some basic arrangements on songs—you know, like _High School Musical,_ Katy Perry, Pink!—fun songs the guys could use to flirt with the Crawford girls—and I brought them to Jon. He tightened up my ideas—and the rest is history.” 

“You like those songs too, though, Blaine.” 

“Well, yeah, but if I was picking what I sang, it would be...I don’t know. Sondheim. Oh, and Bryan Ferry. Bowie. Freddie Mercury. _Stephen Trask_.” 

He straddled his legs, nudged Kurt to do the same, and reached out to pull him into a forward stretch. “I guess what I’m saying, Kurt, is that getting solos isn’t about being the best singer. It’s about figuring out what the people making the decisions want. Just—what the Warblers want right now is to show off that gorgeous voice of yours—and that gorgeous face.” 

They were heading dangerously close to kissing territory now, Kurt thought. Wes would not be amused to find that that was how they used their extra time. So he took his hands away and led Blaine into a side stretch, noting in a teasing voice, “What _you_ want, you mean. You forget I was there in the meeting.” 

“Same thing. Now, do you want to run through your part first before we go back out there?” 

“I think I’ve got it.” 

“Just remember to find your mark. We’ve got to time the spotlight to hit you at just the right moment.” 

“Not leaving anything to chance?” 

“Just being prepared.” He hopped up and held his hand out to Kurt to help him up. Then he shrugged his jacket back on, slipped into his shoes, and checked his tie in the mirror. Satisfied, he pecked Kurt’s cheek, and said, “Let’s go have some fun.” 

Kurt didn’t know what exactly had just happened. The stretching had been calming, sure. He didn’t know if the talk made him feel better, more confident in his performance. What he DID know was that if he was sleepless tonight, it would have more to do with thinking this all out than with his nerves about the coming competition. Blaine’s “preparation” sounded like COMPROMISE to Kurt. A lot of things about Dalton did, to be honest. But the other boy had one thing right: he had to be smart about performing—about all his future, really, if he hoped to get out of Lima. 

Mostly, he was more curious than ever about Blaine. He suddenly had a memory of Blaine at the Lima Bean at Valentine’s saying, “I don’t know what I’m doing. I pretend like I do.” As he followed Blaine down the hall, he studied the other boy’s posture and easy smile. He wondered if he would ever get to know the boy under all that careful preparation.


End file.
